last will
by chwanny
Summary: "Bees always know how to get back home. I guess I'm no different." Minho/OC
1. hello

_I don't remember much about my childhood before WICKED._

_Heh, no, I suppose that's a lie. I just prefer _not _to remember – who would? I was eight when it happened: the melting of faces from the solar flares, then the melting of brains from _the _Flare._

_Before WICKED, I lived in Michigan in a town called Portage. It was near a lake – and I swear to you, lakes have beaches, and this lake had the most beautiful beaches. But anyway, I was part of the few Asian families that lived there, along with my doting mother and father. We were a minority, I suppose, but that doesn't matter. I still had friends._

_My father never even survived the solar flares. He was on a business trip to Texas when they hit, and the rest is history._

_I wonder if it would have been better if my mother and I went with him down there. At least, it would have been a quicker ending – no suffering, just a quick burn, and then you're gone._

_But instead, I watched my mother deteriorate into a shadow of the woman she used to be after my father died. I think she was immune to the Flare, somehow, some strange twist that allowed her to defy the virus, but she succumbed to her depression instead. She loved my father too much. She loved him more than she loved me._

A tear blotted the page she was furiously scribbling on, while a hand comfortingly patted her shoulder.

"Honey, that's not the truth. It's because she loved you that you're here. With me."

The girl laughed bitterly, and shook off the hand.

_The Chancellor says it's not the truth. But I want to believe it is, I want to believe that because of my mother I'm cursed into this fate, this hellhole. If she was a little bit stronger, we would've been fine. _I _would have been fine._

The woman standing beside the writing girl stiffened and pursed her lips. "I'll leave you alone then, Honey." She disappeared in a few minutes, using that new technology that had been developed within recent years (but was so utterly _useless_ when it came to what really mattered – finding a cure).

_But now she's gone, both of them are. The Chancellor's not looking over my shoulder anymore, and now I don't have to worry about disappointing her with whatever I choose to write about._

_I think I know that deep in my heart, that The Chancellor's right – she usually is. My mother probably knew that there was no chance of her surviving, even if she _was _immune, not when she didn't have the will to survive. And if she couldn't survive, how would I – a little eight year old girl – be able to?_

_The Chancellor found me in my mother's skinny, bony arms – the last time I would ever see my mother, touch her, smell her. My mother couldn't take it anymore – her sorrow was eating her up and she couldn't do anything about it. So she held out her arms, and handed over my tiny body to the Chancellor._

_My mother didn't even say goodbye._

_But the Chancellor took me in – I suppose initially planning on using me as a Variable somehow. But things changed. I was smarter than she expected, maybe not as smart as Thomas and Teresa or Aris and Rachel, but smart enough. And I was rebellious, I guess from that anger from being __left behind_ _no, my mother meant well, I was never left behind, but I was young and foolish and that was what I felt._

_The Chancellor started to notice, and she liked my rebelliousness, although she might not have liked where it came from. She decided to use me – not like Thomas and them, but not like the rest of Group A or B either. I would be trained like that special little quartet, but I would be sent into the Glade just like everyone else – without _any _trace of my memories. And I would be the little sleeping spy, ready to wake whenever I would be stung by a Griever and remember everything._

_It was fitting that my original name was Hyunhee though – a North Korean spy, isn't the parallel hilarious?_

_The Chancellor laughed when she found out, and she let me keep my name – another reason I was special, I guess. But she can't pronounce it correctly, so I told her to call me Honeybee, a nickname my friends used, back before the flares hit, because of my sweet appearance yet sharp temperament. It'll probably be the name I use in the Glade too. She calls me Honey now._

Honey took a deep sigh. It was finally time to get to the crux of the matter.

_I'm writing this now, because I'll be entering the Glade tomorrow. It's my turn to go in – the first few sets for each group already entered; Alby, Minho, Newt for A and Sonya and Harriet for B are all already there – just to name a few. I thought I'd be part of the second batch or something for Group B, but the Chancellor wanted me to wait and wanted me to join Group A, wanted me to me to be a Greenbean, or a Greenie, as the Gladers have already starting calling the newbies, so that I would be alone in every way possible._

_Even though I'm not like them, she still wants to map out my brain, my killzone, and she wants to see how I'll react, but she means well._

_I'll have a note written in my pocket, saying "_Don't let them know you're different." _Wonderfully vague isn't it? Have fun figuring it out, future me._

_It'll be difficult, without a question, just because you're not like them. A girl in the middle of teenage boys? Hah, be glad you at least went through puberty already. But you'll have to hide it, without a doubt. You'll at least wake up tomorrow with a binder on your chest – none of that silly bandaging your breast nonsense, that's terrible for your ribs. Every month, they'll also send you supplies. You'll have to be careful about it, but it won't be too obvious, they'll just send discreet pieces of cloth like bandages for you to use and throw away. I asked the Chancellor to just give me some hormone suppressors to shut things down over there, but she says it's too risky. What if I become infertile? In a world where the Flare is killing us all, she can't risk the possibility of me becoming sterile._

_You'll probably be the oldest one there though, even older than the first ones. I think we're nineteen now or maybe it was twenty, right? Well, I suppose you won't remember. Later on, you'll realize it'll be scary being the oldest. After all, it was the younger ones who were safe from the Flare, and only a small percentage of them too. Just because mother was, it doesn't mean I am… if _we _are. The Chancellor knows, but I told her not to tell me, not yet. I don't know if…_

_It doesn't matter right now though._

_This stupid letter won't matter either, if you're stung, you're going to remember everything and this letter is pointless. I don't understand the Chancellor sometimes._

Honey paused again, shaking her head and snorting.

_No, I suppose this is supposed to be a will of sorts. In case you die or something. I hope you don't. But you'll probably be fine. Bees always know how to get back home. I guess I'm no different._

_But I should come clean and honest right now, I guess._

_I'm a bit grateful to my mother. Because of her, I'm lucky enough to have been loved by two women who care for me more than anything._

_If this is the end, mother, I love you. I don't even know where you are, or if you're even alive, although I doubt it… but I love you. Chancellor… thank you for everything. I'll do my best to help you – you mean the best out of all of them. I love you too, Ava._

_Good luck tomorrow, Honeybee._

Honey snorted one last time.

_Don't die._

_WICKED isn't always good. But they try._

The girl woke up with a start, in a box, something like an elevator maybe, moving upwards at a furious pace. She gasped as she looked around her surroundings, patting herself down. She felt something sticking out her pocket, and pulled out a small note. _Don't let them know you're different._

There was a small piece of glass on the floor next to her, perhaps broken off from… from whatever the box was made of. She inspected it, looking at her appearance.

Her hair was short and messy, and while some of it was pulled back into a slight ponytail, much of it still fell in rough waves around her face. She looked somewhat plain, plain enough to pass for a boy, a pretty one maybe, without any spectacular beauty apparent in her face. She pulled at her cheeks and poked her nose, like a curious young child. She could tell she was a girl and that she was Asian – she could remember that, and then with a shock she realized she didn't remember anything else.

Her name…

Some sort of insect – an ant? A grasshopper maybe?

Suddenly the box clanged against some gate, and the lid opened with a groan.

The sun was bright and burned her eyes for a moment when she heard a buzz, a bee passing by.

_Honeybee._

A hand stretched out toward her, blocking the light from her sun. "Welcome to the Glade, Greenbean."

"Honeybee…" She murmured quietly, ignoring the hand completely.

The man – no, boy – before her groaned. "We got a shucking dazed shank here." He pulled her up to her feet, and out of the box. "C'mon, up you go, Greenie."

She looked around. Twenty or so boys surrounded her, stared at her. A few of them called out to her.

"What's yer name, Greenie?"

"What a pretty boy, ya think this shank can last?"

Some of them chuckled at the last one, while she stared at him, confused. A pretty boy? She was about to protest, but something held her back. "I'm… Honeybee?" Ignoring the peals of laughter at her name, she turned to the boy who led her out of the box. "Are there only guys here?"

He nodded, and smirked. "Yep. Why, missing your mommy already?"

She stared at him dumbly, her mouth slightly agape. She blinked a few times before shaking her head.

_Don't let them know you're different._


	2. welcome

Honey supposed she adapted somewhat well to this… colony of boys. They made fun of her often initially, but they did that to every Greenie, and even though she was afraid at first, that they would catch on, none of them did – none of them expected a girl after all. They were kind and laidback, in that boyish sort of way, and she adapted that outlook, although she would look out from time to time and wonder what lay beyond the walls of the maze.

She fell in with the ones that worked in the Garden – the Track-hoes. She naturally had a green thumb, and her crops in particular grew abundantly. Birds and bees flocked to her, as if they knew her name, and gradually, she began to tame a few of her followers.

She named the birds, a collection just as diverse as the boys who lived in the Glade. Doyle the falcon, Sia the hawk, Rouss the nightengale, Dora the hummingbird – she didn't know where these names came from, but they rolled easily off her thoughts.

With her birds following her, Honey began to attract attention – not that she hadn't in the first place; she had already made a few friends with her easygoing, gentle nature, and her role as the "pretty boy" was enough to garner several looks in her direction and teasing catcalls or wolf-whistles (which, although in good nature, couldn't help but make her feel uneasy). She gathered attention from the Keepers, who wondered of the possibilities they could do with her tamed animals, and particularly from the Runners, who considered the idea of sending her birds through the maze.

But the first month passed, and it was about to begin. Honey anticipated it in some way; she felt her body become uneasy, nauseous.

As promised, (as _who _promised? Honey was mad she could remember the message, but not the sender) a copious amount of bandages and cloth were sent with the Box. However, these supplies were often tucked away in the Med-jacks' little office within the Homestead. She knew it was only a matter of time before it would become noticeable, and she knew she would have to hurry. She left her job with the excuse that she didn't feel well (which was rather believable – everything ached, and it was rather evident through the way she carried herself) and was sent to the infirmary to take a short reprieve.

She groaned and shook her head as she paced around inside the nursing room where all the bandages would be held. Should she really just steal some? She supposed she didn't really have a choice, but still! What if someone just walked right in and she was caught, or what if she left a trail, or what if…?!

No, she slapped her cheeks, as if angry at herself. She had to do it, so she would. It was almost dark anyway, and everyone was getting ready to finish up anyway. The Med-jacks didn't have any other patients at the time, so she told them that she would be fine after a nap and they left her alone.

Looking around one last time, she snuck quietly over to the cabinet that held all the medicinal supplies, peeking through the drawers to find the bandages. She made a silent cry of success, and took a bundle of the small pieces of cloth.

"What the shuck are you doin'?"

Honey groaned when she heard that voice. Out of all the people she could have been caught by, it had to be Minho. She spun around quickly, trying to hide the cloth behind her back or into her pocket, anything before –

Minho stalked over and grabbed her wrist, raising an eyebrow after inspecting the contents of her hand. "And you're stealing bandages… why?"

_It's none of your business, you shuck._

Honey stuffed the thought out of her head (although she wondered where it came from) and responded calmly, (or tried to) despite the tumultuous mixture of emotions she felt – some fear and shame, and somehow an annoyed type of anger. "I need them."

"Why."

It wasn't even a question anymore, it was like he just wanted to interrogate her, to speak to her, to get some answers. But it's not like she had any, so she didn't speak and looked away.

"I asked your shucking face a question. Why do you want these shucking bandages?"

Honey blinked once, and looked to the window and door, hoping for some form of help (although she didn't know what).

Then she heard a chirp, a weak bubbling sound, and a bloody little sparrow hopped through the window, supported by Doyle. Her eyes widened at the sight, and she shook off Minho's grip and broke free of his hold, dropping the bandages to run over to her precious birds. Cupping her hands around the small sparrow, she cooed gently to it, trying to soothe its pain.

Minho stared at her for a moment, then laughed for a brief moment. "I like you, Honeybee! Take all the shucking bandages you want." When she glanced back at his face to make sure he wasn't joking, she lit up with relief and she sighed lightly.

She released a breath she didn't realize she was holding with quiet "thanks." But when she gathered her birds and bandages and made to leave, an arm blocked her way one final time. She looked up at Minho, almost glaring at him, but the light in her eyes was too soft for that.

"On one condition."

Honey already started shaking her head, already anticipated the question, no, command before her.

"Join the Runners."

It was ironic, how adamantly she tried to _run away_ from being a Runner. When Minho uttered those words back in the infirmary, she ducked quickly under his arm and ran away.

But he was persistent, and found her wherever she went after he returned from his runs.

It was almost cute, almost romantic. He'd run out the from the walls, then straight to her position at the fields. Sometimes he'd bring 'gifts' - flowers that he found outside that he'd stick in her hair ("You're a flower boy, it suits your image" he'd say with a shucking smirk); or a small injured bird that had made it outside the walls, only to be slammed into walls ("Take care of it, with all those bandages"); or sometimes, even, he'd act as if he was the gift ("How ya' doing, Honey? These shucks treating you okay?").

And each time she'd shy away. This wasn't what she wanted. She might have enjoyed everything he presented to her, even himself, but that would have been in a different time - a different world, where she wasn't a boy stuck in a maze with no way out (_a world where the sun hadn't burned away everything she knew_). She might have liked Minho (no, she _would_ have liked him) if she wasn't so intent on surviving. Becoming a Runner, risking her her identity being revealed, _none of that_ would help her chances of survival.

She thought his proposal over and over again in her head, so many times it hurt, but each time, every time, she knew it wasn't right. She was a girl, one with a pitiful figure at that, and her birds couldn't save her when her legs would give out on her.

But she knew it was only a matter of time before Minho stopped trying to persuade and instead went directly to Alby to choose her as a Runner. And the thought made her sick.

Honey groaned as she leaned against her hoe. It had been a long day, and these aching thoughts weren't helping any. She had been feeling exceptionally hot that day as well, and she wasn't sure if it was the sun, or something else. But now her day was over, and she could finally get some rest.

"Hey shank, nice running away, ya' did there."

Until, of course, Minho came along.

She turned away, ready to run away one more time, but he grabbed her wrist.

"Come on, Honey, you're so… so shucking skittish or some klunk. Just run with us once, just once!"

Honey shook her head with some sort of fury, yet almost languidly, as if in pain. "No, no, no!"

He grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "Why not."

"I'm… I'm…" _I'm a shucking girl, you shank. There's no way I could keep up with you! _"I have my birds, and I have to take care of them... What happens when I die in the Maze?"

_'When'. Not 'if'._

He raised an eyebrow. "Why do you think you'll die in there?"

Honey sighed inwardly. She shucked up... "I'm... I'm not like you, okay?"

Minho snorted. "What, not strong like us Runners?"

She turned away.

"Are you serious? Is that why? Honey, look at me! We'll make you strong, you don't have to shucking worry about that klunk!"

"Let go of me." There was a sudden ice in her tone - a sudden ice that did not befit her image of a warm little honeybee.

"Who are you, Honey, really?"

And she started running again, but it wasn't long before Minho caught up to her, tackled her, sent her to the ground, where she started thrashing as if _stung_.

Minho panicked - there had only been a few cases of being stung by a Griever before, and the serum that cured it only started being sent up from the Box recently, and its supplies were scant. He straddled her, holding her down, and held her face in his hands. "Hey, hey, Honey, look at me, please, look at me! You're gonna be okay!"

Honey was wild, and to be honest she didn't know why. The only thing she knew was that he was too close, too suffocatingly close and she needed to get free. "Go away, go away, go away!" Her voice started out as a croaking whisper but escalated to a shout, that was only muffled by Minho's hand.

Suddenly everything felt too hot and too cold all at once, and Honey couldn't see anything but black.


End file.
